Americans
by KTEW
Summary: Sequel to or She Would Just Never Understand. My too-late-to-be-true head canon on how Brittany "introduces" Rory to the rest of the New Directions... and some other people.


"C'mon," she said, dragging me down the halls.

"Brittany, I can walk for myself," I protested, trying to pull my wrist out of her grasp.

"What?" she asked, confused, looking back at me and turning so that I almost slammed face-first into a locker.

"Never mind," I said, using my free hand to turn her back around. I'd moved in with her two days ago and she'd yet to understand a word I'd said.

She kept skipping along, making me jog to keep up with her, until we reached two other girls.

"Hey!" Brittany said, making them turn around.

The blonde smiled just a bit, though it looked forced, and nodded at her as the Latina said, "Hey, Brit." Her eyes went to me and automatically clouded with hostility. "Who's this?"

"San, this is…" Brittany started happily, trailing off when she seemed to forget my name.

"Rory Flanagan," I cut in, holding out my free hand for the darker girl to shake.

"He's a leprechaun," Brittany explained, her face serious. I looked at her like she was crazy. Which I was pretty sure she was.

The blonde raised an eyebrow, while the darker girl didn't seem to care.

"Santana Lopez," she said, shaking my hand and smirking. She pulled away and wrapped an arm around the shoulders of the other girl, whose smile was even more unnerving.

"C'mon, Quinn," Santana said, walking off with her.

I tugged on my wrist again, still trying to get it out of Brittany's surprisingly tight grip.

"Kurt!" she cried, sprinting off and dragging me along again.

She stopped in front of a boy with a face that could only be described as delicate, with soft-looking brown hair, extremely pale skin, and eyes as blue as mine. He was in the middle of talking to a dark-skinned, overweight girl and was holding hands with a shorter boy with heavily gelled dark hair.

The brunet looked away from the other girl and over to Brittany. "Oh, hey, Brit."

The darker girl looked at me. "Who's the white boy?"

The brunet rolled his eyes, while the shorter boy laughed.

"I'm Rory," I said before Brittany could say anything. "I'm an exchange student."

The shorter boy extended his free hand. "I'm Blaine," he said with an almost blinding smile. "This is my boyfriend, Kurt."

I shook his hand, a bit surprised. I'd never known a gay person before. I wasn't prejudiced, just not used to the idea.

"Mercedes," the girl said, flipping her hair behind her shoulder in a move that screamed, "diva".

I nodded in her direction, but a tap on my shoulder made me turn around, finally tearing my wrist out of Brittany's grasp. Standing in front of me was an Asian girl whose warm smile sharply contrasted with her gothic outfit and an Asian boy who had his arm around her and seemed to be in the middle of a conversation with the third member of their group, a very nerdy-looking boy in a wheelchair.

"Hi, you must be new," the girl said, glancing over at the Asian boy to cut him off. "I'm Tina."

"Mike," the Asian boy said, nodding at me and smiling.

"Artie," the boy in the wheelchair said, tearing his gaze away from Brittany, who was still talking to Kurt, Blaine, and Mercedes. I doubted she'd even noticed she'd lost her grip on me.

"Rory," I said, smiling back.

"Exchange student?" she guessed, obviously noticing how my name only highlighted my accent.

I nodded, nervously scratching the back of my neck. "That obvious?"

She giggled a little. "Well, the accent stands out."

I smiled a little more until I noticed that Mike was frowning at me. He tightened his arm around Tina and steered her past me without so much as an acknowledgement.

"Later, dude," Artie said, following them.

I stared a moment, confused, before turning back to Brittany only to find myself face-to-face with a broad-shouldered boy with spiked-up brown hair who was wearing a football jacket. His hand was on the shoulder of a much shorter girl with dark hair and heavy bangs, who was dressed in a reindeer sweater.

"Dude, what's up with your hair?" the boy asked, openly staring.

"What?" I asked, taken off guard.

"Finn, honey, he's a foreign exchange student," the girl said before she turned to me. "Welcome to our school," she said slowly, as if I didn't speak English. "We need people for our Glee Club. That is a–"

"What are you doing?" I asked, one eyebrow raised.

She blinked, surprised. "Wait, where are you from?" she said, standing on her toes to study me.

"Ireland…" I said, confused.

"Oh…" she said, looking intrigued. "And can you sing?"

I shrugged. "I guess."

She grinned, an almost calculating look taking over her face. "I'm Rachel and this is Finn. We're the lead soloists for the New Directions, our school's main Glee Club. We'd be delighted if you could join."

Finn looked down at her, surprised, but shrugged it off. "Yeah, dude, you totally should," he said, clasping my shoulder with painful strength. "C'mon, Rachel, we'd better go." He gave me a friendly smile before walking away, taking her with him.

Before I could really process what had just happened, another pair of people walked in front of me.

"C'mon, Lauren," the boy pleaded, running a hand through his Mohawk. "We _need_ you if we even wanna make it to Sectionals."

"For the last time, Puck, _no_," the girl said, sounding annoyed, her arms across her sizeable chest. "Glee ruined my rep. I'm not going back."

I stared after them as they passed, wondering what she meant.

Another girl started walking by, looking absorbed in her book and twirling a pencil between her fingers. She looked over at me and paused.

"Well, hello," she said, smiling almost dangerously.

"Um, hi," I said, taking a step back.

She moved in closer. "Oh, I love your accent," she said in a voice that was as nasally as mine was accented. "Where are you from?"

"Ireland…" I said, nervously, tugging on the collar of my shirt.

Her grin widened. "I'm Sugar Motta. And you are?"

Luckily I was saved by a Hispanic woman racing over.

"Sugar, where have you been?" she asked, annoyed. "You agreed to practice this morning!"

Sugar sighed. "But Mr. Corcoran, I don't _need_ the practice."

"Yes, you do," the woman said firmly. "Now come on."

Sugar reluctantly followed her, looking over at me, sticking the eraser in her mouth, and winking.

I shivered. And I'd thought _Brittany_ was bad.

It was official, all Americans were crazy.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: This <em>was<em> my theory... I was so far off. XD**

**Did anyone else agree with this?**


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